Sentiment trumps hypocrisy as MPs say farewell to Speaker

The Speaker is quitting, and after his last prime minister's questions, we had tributes to his wisdom, kindness, ­courage, sagacity, general fragrance and ability – though a teetotaller – to pour a large scotch. It was like wading through treacle.

What made the whole event specially icky was that the tributes came from the very people who had got rid of him in the hopes of saving their own ­political skins. It was as if a lynch mob had gathered to see their victim hanged, and then cheered his speech from the scaffold.

At least Nick Clegg, the only party leader to tell him in public to go, had the grace to admit that it was generous of the Speaker to call him: not, of course, that Michael Martin had any real choice. Like all the MPs who paid tribute, Clegg stressed Martin's kindness rather than any great skills he had as a Speaker.

In fact, kindness was the kindest thing anyone had to praise, though there are worse things to be remembered for. The other great theme was his humble origins, from "sheet metalworker". (Or as someone said on the News Quiz, "what does it matter if he was a terrible metalworker?")

And naturally there was guilt. He did indeed rise from the slums of Glasgow to high office, and then became the first Speaker in 300 years to be obliged to resign. No wonder people wanted to send him off with some balm for wounded feelings, to go with the lavish pension.

In his own farewell speech Martin blamed everyone else for what went wrong. If, a year ago, the house had agreed to the 18 proposals on expenses and allowances that his committee had put forward, none of this would have happened.

But so warm and gluey was the mood that this too was greeted with enthusiastic support by many of the people who had either voted against the plans or not bothered to come at all. In the Commons sentiment will always trump hypocrisy.

He also won them over with a tribute to themselves: though parliament was now at a low ebb, the British people would once again have a parliamentary democracy that is "the finest in the world".

This hope caused them to break all the rules of order and break out in loud and prolonged applause. So everyone felt good, except a few observers who looked distinctly nauseous.

Martin's final prime minister's question time was rough and noisy. David Cameron made the mistake of admitting that the recession had affected all of Europe. He's never denied this, but it caused the generally miserable Labour lot to cheer dementedly and try to bellow him down.

Then the Tories got their own back. Gordon Brown was asked if the police were keeping files on Heathrow third runway protesters.

"I know nothing …" he began, and the Tories erupted with glee. From Mr Bean to Manuel.